Turquoise waters lapped against Seven-Mile Beach’s fine white sands under an incandescent blue sky. Neck deep in swimming pool-like water, Gail gushed, "Look, I can see my toes! There's tiny fish skittering around." Smiling, I donned my snorkel mask and fins and swam in the warm water surrounded by bright coral and exotic fish.

We had first visited this gem of a beach on a one-day visit to Grand Cayman Island during a Western Caribbean cruise. This time we came back for a week's stay at the Holiday Inn, nestled on the widest strip of Seven-Mile Beach. Scenes from the movie The Firm, featuring Tom Cruise and Gene Hackman were shot at both this hotel and the Hyatt down the street.

We milled through the shops in Georgetown, the capitol and sampled the island's freshly baked Tortuga Rum Cake. Yum! Store items were quite pricey as one might expect in a tourist area. It felt even more expensive because one US dollar converted to roughly eighty cents in Cayman money. Cayman dollars used the same "$" symbol as U.S. dollars, adding to the confusion.

We noticed that all the shops and restaurants displayed invitations to visit condominium timeshares and offered cash incentives. By the third day, Gail ceded. "Let's attend. The gift will defray some of our expenses." We signed up for a meeting, vowing not to buy.

A personable and glib salesman flashed a magnetic smile and chatted with us before launching into his spiel. He then took us on a tour of the resort. When we returned, he crowed, "Grand Cayman is the ultimate location, and I have the perfect, discounted timeshare for you." He leaned forward in his chair. “Do you want it? Talk things over in the lobby, and let me know."

"This sounds really good," Gail said. "Should we do it?"
"Ah, yeah . . . uh, no . . . I thought we weren't going to do this."
"Jesus, please guide our decision," she prayed. After praying, we looked at each other and reasoned, "Why not?"
We stepped back into the salesman's office. "We'll take the timeshare," I said. He flashed a high-voltage smile as we signed the sales contract and paid half of the total with our credit card.

We revisited the property later that afternoon. Gail peered through the front window facing the beach. "You can hardly see the ocean." She frowned. Then it dawned on us that future developments would obstruct the view altogether. We sauntered across the street and were disappointed to see a rocky stretch of the beach littered with broken glass, cans and bottles.

Back in our hotel room, I thumbed through the worldwide timeshare exchange catalog. “The trade properties seem to be in remote locations,” I whined. I scanned the contract and noticed the timeshare was a club membership that didn't include a real estate deed. "Uh-oh, I think we made a mistake."

"We shouldn't have rushed into this," Gail lamented.

The following morning, I called the salesman. “I’m afraid I can't rescind the contract," he said.
"But aren't we entitled to the three-day buyer's remorse period?"
"That only works in California. Grand Cayman is British territory."

Crestfallen, I put the phone back in its cradle. Gail and I joined hands and prayed. "Dear Lord, please help us out of this mess . . ."

I called the credit card company to cancel the charge, but they required a credit memo. I called the office again and asked for the owner.

"The only person who might rescind the contract is the business manager," the salesman said. "But he's away at a meeting in Las Vegas and isn't due back until tomorrow."

The following day, the receptionist answered the phone. "The business manager left Las Vegas, but he's stuck in Mexico with aircraft engine problems. Check back tomorrow."

"Engine problems?" I sighed. "What else can go wrong?"

In spite of our dampened spirits, we tried to make the best of it. That night, we dined by the water’s edge, and listened to a live band playing reggae and calypso music. Gentle waves broke on the beach. We watched the sun descend into the sea and paint a kaleidoscopic sunset of saffron, fuchsia, and pinkish-orange colors.

The day before our departure, we prayed again and fully committed the situation into God's hands. An unexpected calm descended upon us. We toured the island one last time. When we returned to our room, we were surprised to see the phone message indicator blinking. I pressed the message button. "The business manager returned, and I scheduled an appointment for you to meet with him at 10:00 tomorrow morning," the salesman said.

"I can't believe it! We're having that meeting after all," Gail beamed. "That's just three hours before our flight home."

The following morning, we went to the office. The business manager shook our hand and warmly greeted us. He gestured for us to take our seats. "Why do you want out of the timeshare?” he asked. We humbly explained our reasons.

After a long pause, he said, "I don't want to obligate you with something you don't want." He released us from the contract and returned our deposit.

Wow! That was just in time, Lord!

"Rise up and help us; redeem us because of your unfailing love." Psalm 44:26 NIV

© 2000-2008 Bob and Gail Kaku. All rights reserved

The Key - by Bob

Under a crystalline blue sky, my wife, Gail, and I basked in the tranquility of St. John, US Virgin Islands. The warm, clear, azure waters washed our feet as we waded through the gentle waves. The unhurried pace and friendly banter with the locals were a welcome respite from our hectic California lives.

We drank in the rich blue vistas of Cruz Bay and the Caribbean Sea from the veranda of our rented condo perched atop a steep hill. The warm onshore breeze and melodic cadence of steel drums wafted in, making our stress float away. What a relaxing spot! Everything was perfect until...

One evening, we strolled down to the swimming pool, the perfect vantage point to view the glistening harbor lights on one side and shimmering moonlit sea on the other. Periodic boat horns droned in the distance. After we sauntered back to our unit, I fished through my belt pouch and pockets for the key, but couldn't find it. All week, I had used extreme caution putting the key back into my pouch. I peered through the kitchen window and saw the key sitting on the counter. "Oh, no! There's no night manager. How will we get in? It's late."

Gail chided herself. "Something always happens on our vacations. I usually ask for a second key."

"The manager's phone number is on the condo brochure. I'll grab one from the display case." After calming ourselves, we drove down the steep road in our rental jeep and pulled into a hotel. I called the number on the brochure and left a message for the manager, telling her we were locked out and to call the hotel lobby.

I found her home address in the telephone book. While Gail waited in the lobby, I drove off to find the manager's home. The streets meandered around in endless confusion. The same names seemed to identify different streets. On top of that, house numbers were either missing or hidden behind the tropical foliage. I asked several people for directions, but they were tourists like me. After an hour, I gave up and drove back to the hotel.

Gail prayed in the hotel lobby. "Jesus, please help us with this problem." After praying she urged me to call the manager again. When I called, the answering machine beeped. Her eyes sank to the floor. "Maybe we can stay in the hotel tonight, but it's $175 on top of what we already paid," she said with a deflated tone.

"Maybe the manager shut off her phone for the evening. We can sleep in the jeep. The seats fold down," I suggested.

She scowled. "But I'm wearing my contact lenses, and I can't sleep with them."

I thumbed through the Yellow Pages searching for a locksmith. "This island doesn't have a locksmith? The only ones listed are clear across the channel in St. Thomas."

"You've got to be kidding," Gail said with disbelief. We prayed again. "Nothing is too difficult for the Lord. Perhaps, the manager is back at the condo. Why don't you drive over there while I wait by the phone?"

When I arrived at the condo complex, the parking lot was empty. No sign of the manager here. Discouragement washed over me. Something compelled me to get out of the jeep and walk over to our condo. I noticed a woman in the adjacent unit preparing dinner. I knocked on the door and her husband answered.

"I'm locked out," I said. "I called the office, but kept getting the answering machine. Do you know how to get hold of the manager?"

"I don't know," he replied. He thought for a moment. "Let's see if my key will work. I don't think it will, but what the heck."

Is he kidding? We walked a couple doors down to my unit. He slid his key into the door lock and turned the knob. To my utter amazement, the door whooshed open. Whoa! I stared bug-eyed with slacked jaws. I chortled, exuberantly thanked the man and drove back to the hotel to pick up Gail.

"What?" she shrieked and burst into laughter. "Thank you Jesus!"

After returning to the condo, I left another message for the manager letting her know we got in.

"I wonder if any key would open any unit," Gail said. Just to test this possibility, we descended the stairs to try our key on an unoccupied unit. After inserting the key, it wouldn't turn, and the door remained locked. "Hmm--maybe we share a common key only with our neighbor?"

The following morning, the manager and the housekeeper scurried over to see us. "How did you get in?" the manager asked. After we explained everything, the housekeeper covered her mouth with her hand. "Ooh! I misplaced a master key."

Out of the ten condo units, the people in the unit adjacent to us just so happened to be in that night and just so happened to have that improbable key.

"Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble; He delivered them out of their distresses." Psalm 107:6

© 2000-2008 Bob and Gail Kaku. All rights reserved